s he awoke to the many watching eyes. Morgan
held out a hand, which was diffidently received, and acknowledged
frankly, "You're much the better man--but where in Heaven's name did you
learn to fence like that?"

The mountain boy flushed, suddenly realizing that this too was a matter
included in his pledge of confidence to Victor McCalloway.

"Oh," he evasively responded, "I jest kinderly picked hit up--hyar an'
thar as I went along."

As soon as possible after that, Boone made his escape, and it was
characteristic of his close-mouthed self-containment that at Saul
Fulton's cabin he said nothing as to where he had spent his Christmas
eve.

CHAPTER VIII

On the afternoon of Christmas day, as Boone stood by the gate of Saul's
rented patch, looking off across the wet bareness of the fields to the
gray and shallow skyline, he was more than a little homesick for the
accustomed thickness of forest and peak. He at last saw two mounted
figures coming toward him, and recognized General Prince and Anne
Masters.

"We rode by to wish you a very merry Christmas," announced the girl, and
the General added his smile and greeting.

"I'm--I'm obleeged ter both of you-all," stammered Boone as Anne,
leaning over, handed him a package.

"I thought maybe you'd like that. It's a fruit-cake," she informed him,
"I brought it because we think our cook makes it just a little bit
better than anybody else."

Something told Boone Wellver that the girl, despite her fine clothes and
manners, was almost as shy with him as he felt toward her, and in the
thought was a sort of reassurance.

"Hit's right charitable-like of ye ter fotch hit ter me," he responded,
slowly, and the child hastened to make a denial.

"Oh, no, please don't think that. It wasn't charity at all. It was
just--" But as she paused, General Prince interrupted her with a hearty
laugh.

"Yes, it was, Anne," he announced. "The word is like the dances. It has
a different significance in the hills. For instance when you go to visit
your father in Marlin County, Boone will be charitable to you too--or,
as we would say, courteous."

"Be ye comin' ter ther mountains?" demanded Boone, and the sudden
interest which rang in his voice surprised himself.

Fearful lest he had displayed too much enthusiasm, he withdrew
cautiously into his almost stolid manner again. "I'm beholden ter ye fer
this hyar sweet cake," he said. "Hit's ther fust Christmas gift I ever
got."

The